


Traipsing Across Thedas

by Gallicenae



Series: Dragon Age - Mages and Templars [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games)
Genre: Companions, Gen, One Shot Collection, Platonic Relationships, Traipsing across Thedas, friendships
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-31
Updated: 2017-06-14
Packaged: 2018-11-07 11:20:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11057880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gallicenae/pseuds/Gallicenae
Summary: An on-going collection of one shots exploring Rhian Amell's interactions and relationships with her companions.





	1. The Words No One Says

**Author's Note:**

> **Companion:** Cole  
>  **Summary:** The words we need to hear are never the ones people say.  
>  **Warnings:** FEELINGS ;A;
> 
>  _Cole’s relationship with Rhian:_ Cole will sit with Rhian all day, every day, whenever she needs it. He’d teach Anya how to make flower crowns and leave them on Rhian’s bed. His touches and embraces are light in the beginning and then grow stronger once Rhian becomes more accustomed to physical affection from others. And he will hug her at the most absolute random of times, but of course no one else sees this, so they’re just really confused when they see her stiffen all of a sudden before melting into a smile.

They had been wandering the Hinterlands for days, closing rifts, retrieving druffalo, rescuing scouts; the work never seemed to end. Rhian had adamantly refused to take a horse from Master Dennet for the third time this month. She didn’t mind the walking, it was a familiar comfort when everything else felt uncertain. Dorian chided her from his perch on a chestnut steed, cantering about in wide circles. 

“He could have taught you the basics, you know.”

“It’s fine Dorian.”

“Taught you…” Cassandra looked aghast, “You mean you’ve never learned to ride?”

Rhian kept her attention on the path ahead, not wanting her companions to see the slight embarrassment in her cheeks. “I’ve never found the need, Lady Seeker.”

Cassandra guided her horse to walk alongside Rhian. “But you have traveled such great distances! You expect me to believe you walked from Ferelden to Tevinter and back?” 

“Is that so difficult to imagine?”

“Yes!”

Dorian laughed as he led them forward, the sound loud and brilliant against the woods. “Careful Cassandra, she’s bound to fall off that pedestal you’ve placed her on!”

He threw a look back over his shoulder. “She failed to mention she’s never learned because the thought of it _terrifies_ her.”

“You over-exaggerate, Dorian.” Rhian shook her head, quickening her pace ever so slightly. “It was a practical decision.”

“Well, aren’t you the liar.”

Cassandra stifled a laugh, pretending to clear her throat so she might not add to Rhian’s discomfort. “If you would like to learn in private, I could speak with Master Dennet when we return to Skyhold.”

“And have a commoner see the Great Herald of Andraste, the Inquisitor, too afraid to swing a leg into her saddle?” Dorian couldn’t get enough of the idea. 

“Is he always like this?”

Rhian looked up at Cassandra with a small smile on her face. “He likes to think he’s funny. I tend to let him.”

—

“We’re here.” Cassandra shifted her posture and tugged gently at the reins.

They stood a fair distance away from the Redcliffe gates. This was the first time Rhian had been back since encountering the Envy demon, since Cole opened the floodgates that had been holding everything back since Kirkwall fell. It looked different.

“-tor? Inquisitor?” 

Rhian blinked. “Yes? Sorry. What is it Cassandra?”

“I asked whether we should find a room for a few nights.”

Dorian caught on quicker. “I’m sure she was just contemplating whether we’d have the pleasure of a straw or feather bed. Do you think they’ll have linen sheets?”

The disgusted noise came on cue, and Cassandra urged her horse forward with a roll of her eyes. 

Dorian leaned down toward Rhian now that they had a moment alone. She wasn’t one to drift off in the middle of conversation, and the look on her face worried him. “Is everything alright?” 

It took her a moment to decide if everything was, and Rhian nodded her head and waved Dorian’s query away. “Go catch up with Cassandra. Stretch the horses for a bit. I’ll meet you near the inn.”

He frowned at her before shaking his head and spurring his horse into a fierce run to catch up with the Seeker. Rhian heard her shout of protest before Cassandra picked up the pace after him.

How many years had it been? How old would he have been by now? 

“Cole.” Rhian whispered.

He was standing beside her in an instant, quiet, waiting. He knew Rhian would have to come back here, had softly asked if he could accompany her when she did. Cole said nothing, knowing everything as she thought it, knowing she needed to say some things out loud.

“Do you think, if Purpose had found me then, he would still be alive?”

“You would have ended it.” He tipped his chin upward, locking eyes with Rhian from behind a curtain of hair. “His life and then yours.”

“… Yes.”

“You were scared. For them. For your friends. For him. But mostly, for you. For what it meant. That’s how they get in, how they make you… wrong.”

Rhian thought over the words she wanted, a rush of them going as soon as she thought of more she could say, to question, to justify, to assuage. She had no reason to voice them to Cole, because they all came back to her.

“You wanted to help. So did he.”

“He didn’t know.”

“But you did. You knew. You knew what she was, what she wanted. You knew how to help.”

“No, Cole. I didn’t.” Rhian clenched her jaw, trying to understand what it was she really needed from facing the darker days of her Warden past. She wasn’t sure if it was forgiveness exactly, or if it was for someone to tell her doing terrible things doesn’t always make you a terrible person. 

Cole placed a hand on her shoulder. “It didn’t hurt you to do it then. That’s why it hurts now.”

She squeezed her eyes shut, pressing her forehead into the heel of her hand. “I said it was necessary. That what I was doing, that killing them, was necessary. I could blame the lessons I was taught in the Circle, the knowledge I had yet to acquire, the people who had put him in that position… but at the end of the day, my hand was the one that slit his throat. No one forced me, no demon possessed me, there were no lies or tricks, it was just me. Me and a little boy who was just trying to save his father.” 

Her shoulders sank, and her knees followed, as Cole guided her down gently to sit across from him in the grass looking toward Redcliffe. Rhian reached for a pendant she didn’t remember owning, her fingers brushing against the leather on her chest. “Nothing I could ever do would be enough…”

“Would you like to forget? You were… happier when you couldn’t remember. You could be that way again.” 

“Cole, I…” Maker she wanted to. She wanted to be able to walk into that village and not see the dead walking among the living or the darkspawn tearing into desperate and untrained villagers. She wanted to walk by the monument without the heavy guilt that she was the one who stole away their future. She wanted to pass by the graves without knowing she was the one who put some there. “I can’t.”

“If I forget, they would have died for nothing. And I… I’ll never be better than I was.”

Cole took her hands in his, holding them for a long while. It was almost enough for him to know everything without the need to divulge every single secret or private thought, but that was his nature. Rhian wouldn’t say she deserved any of it, as much as she craved to.

“You are you.” He said emphatically, squeezing her hands. “There is no better or worse, just you.”

Cole leaned in and touched his forehead to hers. “And you are good.”


	2. A Kindness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Companion:** Sera  
>  **Summary:** Sera reveals some shared history with Rhian after pranking her other companions.  
>  **Warnings:** Naked Varric? But tasteful?
> 
>  _Sera’s relationship with Rhian:_ Sera tends to keep her distance unless Rhian seeks her out, though she believes it her mission to get Rhian to actually laugh at something with more than a slight chuckle. Her plans for that are always changing, wanting it to be something Rhian couldn’t imagine her doing. She appreciates that Rhian isn’t averse to Sera’s pranking others in Skyhold, though the Inquisitor rarely if ever joins in. Rhian will ask for prank suggestions for Dorian and Vax on occasion. Though they aren’t close friends, Sera trusts the Inquisitor will do right by the people, which is why she continues to follow and support Rhian.

Rhian walked ahead of her companions on the dirt road winding through the Exalted Plains, eyes scanning the horizon for demons and undead. The civil war required more personal attention than she would have liked, a frustration that unfortunately came with her new title. 

Varric and Sera were as argumentative as ever, though the dwarf was more inclined to say it was just a bit of lively conversation. They weren’t particularly good at keeping their voices down, but Rhian had given up trying to shush them miles back. She guessed it was fitting that the noisiest ones in her company always ended up being rogues - one only needed to worry when they were silent. 

“I’m just saying, Buttercup, there’s no point narrating every little detail.”

“You mean no one in your stories takes a shit?”

“Would you really want a story where everyone just stops to relieve themselves in the middle?”

“’Course I would. That’s what real people _do_.” Sera looked at him and scrunched her nose in disapproval. “Your people aren’t real, that’s why all your stories are so boring.”

Varric was about to counter with a couple of very realistic examples from his Tale of the Champion, but thought better of it, knowing Sera wouldn’t take him seriously on the matter. “There’s a reason they call it fiction, Buttercup.”

“Don’t know why people would want to read about things that aren’t real.”

“You mean, you don’t know why people would want to read.”

“That’s about the right of it, yeah.”

Varric shook his head, letting a half-amused sigh escape into the air. “Chipper, can you help a guy out?”

Vaxus looked down at the beleaguered dwarf with a small smile of pity and shrugged his shoulders. “You know half the things Sera says are meant to trip you up. That’s why it’s fun.”

Sera grinned and stuck her tongue out at Varric before bounding forward to catch up with their fearless leader. 

\---

Rhian sat away from the campfire, staring into the flames as she absent-mindedly rubbed a forefinger over her thumb. They would need to call in Inquisition forces to repair the bridge just north of camp in addition to clearing out the cave-in by Fort Revasan. Rhian was sure Cullen could spare some troops for the effort, but she had to decide when their skills would be best suited to the task. Especially considering organizing the Orlesian troops under ceasefire would be a task in and of itself. There was also the matter of the Dalish clan needing safe passage through the area, which, at the moment, was still teeming with demons and packs of wolves.

She pressed more firmly on her thumb. It would take them weeks to secure this area for the Inquisition.

Bushes rustled along the edge of camp. Rhian calmed her hands and extended her fingers toward the sound, ready to dispel whatever hid in the shadows. Sera leapt from the shrubs, her arms piled high with a familiar bundle of leathers and wool. She was downright giddy, pleased with her heist and good-natured treachery. Rhian lowered her hand.

“Pfft! They just left ‘em there! On the biggest rock near the river! Can you believe it?”

“Their clothes, Sera?”

“Not just their clothes.” She snorted. “Their breeches.”

Sera proceeded to toss Vax and Varric’s attire all over the camp. A sock by the fire, a jerkin in a tree, anywhere they would be the most conspicuous and attention-grabbing. 

“And their boots?”

“I’m not cruel, Rhinny.” Sera laughed back as she put the final touches on the boys’ bedding. She drew back the tent flap and gazed proudly upon her handiwork before shouting, “Let’s go see their faces!”

“You know Varric is just going to strut right back into camp as if nothing’s happened, right?”

Sera paused. “Shit. He would. Shit.” 

Rhian gave Sera some more time to run over the possible outcomes.

“But Vax’ll-”

“He’ll probably stay in the river and freeze until Varric brings his things back.”

“That’s not fun. Why d’you have to make it not fun?”

“The fun was in the stealing, wasn’t it? And the picture you made of it in your head?” 

“You think too much.”

“You do too much.”

“Perfect pair we are then, yeah?” Sera grinned and walked over to sit next to Rhian on the ground. 

She nudged the Inquisitor with her shoulder. “Is that why you walk ahead only as far as I can shoot?”

“Something like that. It’s mostly-”

“Nah, don’t go ruining it with too much talk. You see things simple, so you should talk simple. Too many words just get in the way.”

They were quiet for a while, sitting in each other’s company and looking at the flames. The night wasn’t as dark as it should have been, but they each ignored the glowing hole in the sky as best they could. 

“With all your words,” Sera started, “I wonder why you never talk about it.”

“Talk about what?”

“Ferelden. The Blight. Denerim. Creepy says you remember now. Remember everything.”

“I don’t have words for any of that, Sera.”

“None any of us would understand, yeah?”

“None that would mean anything.”

“Well, I have some that do.” Sera turned to face Rhian and crossed her legs, leaning in close. “People talk about it like it’s far away. Like it always was. But it wasn’t. Isn’t. Whatever.” 

She waved herself on, trying to make a point without making the air heavier since Rhian did a fine job of that on her own. “Thing is, people can forget what kindness is. Sometimes it’s stealing breeches, sometimes it’s tilting a desk. And sometimes it’s a little red box being delivered to your door.”

“Things like that. It’s good to remember them.”

Rhian allowed herself a smile. “Sera, you-”

A familiar voice interrupted them, “-can be surprisingly profound.”

There was Varric, dripping from head to boot, with his arms crossed and a half-cocked smirk playing across his face. Vaxus stood off to the side in the bushes, attempting to maintain some measure of modesty. 

“Varric, you look, uh...” Rhian was grateful the campfire was between them, not that the dwarf would have cared one way or the other.

“Oh, oh, oh! Let me!” Sera cleared her throat dramatically and did her best imitation of Varric’s narrative tone. “Their hair dangled and dripped down their shoulders, water bouncing off the roundness of their naked - arses. Er, bottoms. Arses? Bums? Arsebottoms - off the roundness of their naked arsebottoms!”

“Poetic. Truly.”

Sera stood and bowed low, flinging a hand up behind her with a flourish.

“Can we have our clothes back now?” Vaxus asked, picking at what few pieces he could find hidden in the bushes.

“I don’t know how any of that was a kindness to us, Buttercup.” Varric tossed a large set of pants in Vax’s direction and began hunting for his own things about camp.

“Who said it was for you?” Sera shot back at him.

“Considering Pages here has a thing for the Commander, I don’t see-”

Vax interjected, “Your chest is a gift from the Maker, Varric. Best leave it at that.”

“Nice save, Chipper.” Varric pulled his shirt over his head and made a show of tying up the collar. “All I’m saying is, if they wanted it that badly, they could have just asked.”


	3. Wine and Words

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Companion:** Vivienne  
>  **Summary:** Vivienne invites Rhian up for a glass or two of wine, but more importantly, answers as to what will become of the freed mages of Thedas. She doesn't get the answer she's looking for.  
>  **Warnings:** Alcohol
> 
>  _Vivienne's relationship with Rhian:_ While Vivienne and Rhian both agree on a number of points related to the use of magic and the Circle, they have a very stoic sort of relationship in terms of everything else. Rhian would prefer Vivienne be direct, and Vivienne would prefer Rhian to be more cunning in how the Game is played. The two women respect each other a great deal, but neither really trusts the other when it comes to political motivations. Their friendship doesn't really grow until Vivienne asks for help with the potion for Bastion.

“Inquisitor, won’t you join me?”

Rhian looked up from the compilation of notes in her hands. Vivienne was waving her over, away from the rotunda library. Rhian was in the middle of cataloguing the mosaics they’d collected and reading over Gatsi’s contributions. She waited for Vivienne to offer more. Even though going through the history of her collections was a secondary task, Rhian tended to relish the work.

Vivienne smiled and nodded toward one of her side tables. “I have a bottle of Rowan’s Rose to share.” 

Rhian turned away from the door to the library and walked up the steps to Vivienne’s balcony. She didn’t even have to ask for the vintage as Madame de Fer poured two goblets and casually mentioned it was ‘only the best, naturally,’ before placing one in Rhian’s hand.

“I know how much you love your books, darling, but you must remember the value of taking time for yourself as well.”

“I would take all the time to myself if I were able to Vivienne.”

“And you would of course deserve it.” Madame de Fer gestured to her chaise lounge as she sat across from it in the high-backed chair. “Please.”

Rhian never liked the idea of reclining so openly; too many years on the road had kept her wary of such blatant relaxation. But she took the offered seating and leaned against the embroidered back of the chaise, her knees folded beneath her. She took a sip from her goblet.

“I know we usually dance around your topics until the second glass, Vivienne, but I can’t say that’s very appealing at the moment.”

“My dear, I asked for the pleasure of your company, nothing else. You’re one of the few here who has a taste for a finer drink.” Vivienne took a moment to swirl her glass. “And if you would like, we can sit here and read if that’s what would suit you better.”

“You would rather discuss whatever is on your mind.”

Vivienne smiled graciously. “The Trevelyans were thorough in your courtly education.”

“They did not give me my eyes Vivienne, only my manners.”

“Aptly put, my dear.” The enchanter delicately held her goblet in a single hand, avoiding placing it down on the table beside her so as not to arouse the suspicion of business. “I am most curious about your family. You are related to the Champion, are you not?”

“I am.”

“The Amells were a powerful lineage. Dating back to the Fourth Blight, I believe. It appears magic has always been strong within the family. I met an Amell once, small thing, the dear. He had a peculiar affinity for casting with his hands.” Vivienne paused, a rather deliberate attempt to pique Rhian’s interest in the topic. When Rhian remained silent, the enchanter continued more pointedly. “Do you know if you have any siblings, Inquisitor?”

“I can see why you think that would matter, Vivienne, but it is of little consequence if I do.”

“Oh? And why is that?”

“What would you have me say? It is clear you have cards in a game I am not intent on playing, so please, share them.”

Though Rhian was hardly a natural at the Grand Game, Vivienne was keenly aware the Inquisitor’s skills of observation and study tended to level the field. It had grown exceedingly more difficult to entice Rhian into playing when she knew how to sidestep the rules entirely. It seemed their time at the Winter Palace had been quite enough to test her patience.

“Very well, Inquisitor.” Vivienne adjusted her demeanor, giving up most of her pretenses in light of the topic at hand. “Your mother, Revka Amell, had four other children after you were sent away. All went to Circles in the Free Marches.”

Rhian ran a finger over the rim of her cup, processing why her enchanter felt the need to bring this up. While Corin wasn’t directly responsible for Kirkwall’s downfall, it did not speak well of their family to have two mages involved with shaping so many events in such a close span of time. Which meant Vivienne, staunch supporter of keeping mages in Circles, was far less concerned with Rhian’s supposed siblings than she was with Rhian’s children.

“And do you know what happened to them?”

“After the first two were placed in the Gallows, the younger was made tranquil. The other rebelled and was killed in the process. The other two were then separated between the circles at Ostwick and Cumberland.” Vivienne waited for Rhian’s reaction, calculating how much more she would need to say. “Did you not run into an Amell during your time at the Ostwick circle?”

“It would not have mattered if I had; I was a Trevelyan at the time. The name would have had no meaning to me then.” Rhian stood, placing her goblet down next to Vivienne’s. She took the bottle and refilled each cup with more wine. “Besides, those children likely had the name of their father, and most are probably dead.”

“You did not take the name of your father.”

Rhian tsked her companion. “Perhaps you should tell me his name, so that I might.”

“My dear, I-”

“Corin told me he was a disgraced magister from Tevinter. That’s all we know.” Rhian handed Vivienne her wine and clinked the metal against her own goblet. “So, if you would, tell me what it is that concerns you about my children.”

“I suppose we have come to the second round.” Vivienne crossed her legs while Rhian remained standing. “My question is this, once the Circles are reestablished, what will you do?”

“You’re assuming they will be.”

“You have said you support the Circles, and you agree that without proper education, magic becomes a tool of destruction - against our kind as much as everyone else.”

“We need an institution which supports mages as well as educates them, but not in isolation. We need to do better than before, Vivienne.”

“And will you be the one to make this institution?”

“No.”

“I see. Rhian, the danger here is that you have been living as an apostate. People have been ignoring it because of your position. Hawke and her associate were living as apostates and you fell victim to the chaos they created.”

“Apostates are not the problem, Vivienne.”

“Your daughter has had no formal training in magic and uses it freely. What of your sons? If they too possess magic, will they follow in her footsteps - in yours?”

“Would it be so terrible if they did?”

Vivienne cleared her throat, brokering time to reassess where she wanted to direct the conversation. She knew Rhian had spent a great deal of time in Tevinter and had no love for the Chantry, but she was also aware the Inquisitor knew better than most the consequences of an untrained mage.

“You said apostates are not the problem. Tell me then, what _is_ the problem, Inquisitor?”

“Fear, Madame de Fer.”

“Do people not have cause to fear magic? To fear us?”

“They have plenty, but they allow that fear to be controlled by those with power rather than by their own will.”

“Then shouldn’t those in power do what is necessary to assuage such fears?”

Rhian looked Vivienne in the eyes, as though she had grown exceptionally bored with the conversation. “Pretending to do good for those most in need is still pretending, power or not.” She set her cup down gently, the remaining wine barely lapping at the sides. “If you think doing what is necessary is a viable option, ask yourself why, and understand what it’s going to cost you.”

Rhian offered a small bow to the enchanter and gathered her notes from the chaise. “Thank you for the drink, Lady Vivienne.”

“Of course, darling, of course.” Vivienne replied as the Inquisitor walked away, her hand tipping the cup toward her lips as she took another sip of wine.


End file.
